


a surprisingly serviceable little lie

by Helenish



Series: Here is a thing that isn't happening. [9]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, underage mumble mumble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-05
Updated: 2011-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-15 10:11:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helenish/pseuds/Helenish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That was easier than he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a surprisingly serviceable little lie

It takes Arthur an inexcusably long time to realize that Eames thinks--still thinks--Arthur wants to fuck him. He puts a hand on Eames' shoulder one night, just brushing past him in the kitchen, and Eames goes still, neck bared, bent towards the cutting board. His hand tightens around the knife handle and Arthur understands in a hot, sick rush. Eames is waiting; Eames is afraid of him.

Fuck, Arthur thinks, later, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. He doesn't touch Eames a lot, but he touches him; the books say kids need that and Arthur, never one for that kind of thing, has been trying. He taps Eames’ shoulder to remind him it's time to pack it up and go to bed, thumps him on the back after a good run, that time he felt his forehead when Eames was sick, he’s going to have to start teaching him to fight soon and Arthur told him--told him he didn't want that, but then, Arthur thinks, Eames barely knows him. He has no reason to trust him, not really.

Arthur goes out, he sleeps with people, but he's been scrupulously careful. He keeps them away from the house, he's always home for breakfast. Maybe that was a mistake, Arthur thinks now, feeling stupid.

Arthur mostly dates guys. It’s not a secret and he’s not ashamed of it, but after a week of careful thought, it seems safer to lean into Holly Lowenthal’s lab and ask if she wants to go to the movies. Holly is tall--taller than Arthur, supermodel tall--and in heels, Arthur’s about eye level with her breasts. She tilts back in her chair and raises one dark eyebrow at Arthur when he asks what she’s doing on Saturday, but she doesn’t say no

*

Arthur works until past midnight on Friday and in the morning gets up and takes Eames out to the abandoned air strip to teach him a few tricks in the car--he promised, and he’s been putting it off for almost a month. He wants to break Eames’ habit of overclutching on turns before it gets too ingrained anyhow. By five Eames is half-asleep on the couch with the television on, and Arthur lets himself look longingly at the armchair and then sacks up and gets in the shower.

He swings by to pick Holly up a little early so he can realize he forgot his wallet back at the house. When they come through the back door, Eames is sitting at the kitchen table eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"Eames, this is Holly," Arthur says. "Holly, Eames."

Eames wipes hastily at his mouth with the back of his hand. "Hi," he says.

"Just a minute," Arthur says, and goes and grabs his wallet off his dresser. When he gets back, Holly is leaning against the sink and Eames is saying,

"--until I finish high school. Arthur’s my cousin." That was Mal’s idea. It’s a surprisingly serviceable little lie: nice and general, difficult to disprove, and most people look from Arthur to Eames and fill in the blanks themselves--a bad home life, or a death in the family. No one asks for details.

"Got it," Arthur says, holding up the wallet, "Sorry about that. We should get going."

"Can't miss the previews," Holly says.

"Yeah," Arthur says. He puts his hand on her hip briefly. There's a little gap between her skirt and her shirt, and his fingers trace across bare skin when he slides his hand up to the small of her back to guide her out the door. To Eames he says, "Make sure you get the lights when you go to bed."

"Right," Eames says. "Have fun." He picks up his sandwich.

Holly’s nice and funny and thoughtful, waves away his wallet when they're getting popcorn, leans over when the opening credits start and says "I hope you're not one of those shitheads who talks through the whole movie."

"No," Arthur says. She laughs a little, very softly.

"Good," she says, her lips brushing against his ear.

After, at her place, she gives Arthur a beer and they make out on the couch for a while, and then he drives around aimlessly for another hour or two after he leaves. The lights are off in the house when he gets home.

*

"Did you have fun on your date?" Eames asks, when they’re running on Sunday morning.

"Yeah, it was fun," Arthur says.

"She’s pretty," Eames says, unconcerned, and then points at a tree at the top of the trail and says "Race you," and takes off before Arthur can say anything else.

On Tuesday morning, there’s a pamphlet tucked into the bathroom mirror that says " **It’s Your Body: Respect it, Protect it!** " in bright blocky letters and then " _USE A CONDOM WITH EVERY PARTNER_ " in black italics along the bottom.

"Very funny," Arthur says, putting it down on the counter next to Eames, who is buttering a slice of raisin toast.

"I just wanted to be sure you were being safe," Eames says solemnly, and then takes a huge bite of toast, his face lighting up in a smart alecky grin. Arthur laughs. That was easier than he expected.

"Want a ride to school?" he says.

"No thanks," Eames says. "I can walk."

"You know you can borrow the car anytime," Arthur says, when Eames is finished with his breakfast and digging through the coat closet. "If you want."

"What for?" Eames says, pulling on his jacket.

"I meant, if you wanted to take someone out," Arthur says. Eames is looking through his backpack and doesn’t answer for a minute.

"Oh," he says, finally, not really meeting Arthur’s eyes, but Arthur gets it; he spent high school in an agony of embarrassment about admitting to liking anyone. "Yeah," Eames says, nodding. "Yeah, okay."


End file.
